


static

by blessings



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Sleepovers, i watched stranger things and now iwa and oikawa have bikes and walkie talkies, seijou gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 21:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13132185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessings/pseuds/blessings
Summary: Sometimes Hajime wonders if Oikawa sees the same things he does when he looks out over their neighborhood (right now it’s two kids kicking up pebbles on their bikes, lugging backpacks filled with walkie-talkies and water bottles and alien scanners, not sure if they’re heading down to the forest or up to the river but positive that they’ll get there together). Back then he and Oikawa saw the same thing when they looked down the road – a straight shot to another adventure, if they just pedaled fast enough.Sometimes Hajime worries they stopped seeing the same thing a while ago and he never noticed.Being snowed in with all of Seijou volleyball in his childhood home brings back a lot of memories for Iwaizumi, because it's kinda Oikawa's childhood home too.





	static

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foureyedwriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foureyedwriter/gifts).



> happy holidays! [foureyedwriter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/foureyedwriter) requested an iwaoi getting together fic for haikyuuwriters secret santa exchange and made my day tbh. hope you enjoy!
> 
> (ps i was listening to [BLEACH](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTMucy4PR2k) by brockhampton a lot while writing this, if u like to listen while u read)
> 
>  
> 
> **there's also _[amazing art](http://evercelle.tumblr.com/post/170373098275/hey-have-you-guys-read-kourrais-fic-static-cuz)_ for this fic now! thank you evercelle**

Iwaizumi Hajime and Oikawa Tooru have been down a lot of roads together, but none as frequently as the street in front of their two houses. 

Sometimes Hajime wonders if Oikawa sees the same things he does when he looks out over their neighborhood (right now it’s two kids kicking up pebbles on their bikes, lugging backpacks filled with walkie-talkies and water bottles and alien scanners, not sure if they’re heading down to the forest or up to the river but positive that they’ll get there together). Back then he and Oikawa saw the same thing when they looked down the road – a straight shot to another adventure, if they just pedaled fast enough. 

Sometimes Hajime worries they stopped seeing the same thing a while ago and he never noticed. 

But he’s afraid to ask, so for now, he just tucks his icicle-fingers into his pockets and lets his breath fog up his view. (Another point of concern: whenever Hajime looks down the road, he can always see Oikawa’s house to his right. But Oikawa has to turn around to see him.)

Hajime would trust his team with his life. But he absolutely would not trust them with finding his house, Google Maps be damned. So while it may be cold enough that his toes feel like they’re _burning,_ the weather in Miyagi falling past simply unseasonable to reach levels of unholy, he’s gonna stand out in his yard and _make sure_ they see him. He stayed up all night getting ready for Seijou’s annual winter break sleepover, dammit, and he’s not letting all that missed sleep go to waste because Matsukawa is shit with directions.

If the team could hurry it up, though, he would be very appreciative.

Just as the cold starts to affect Hajime’s decision-making skills, making him think that maybe the team _doesn’t_ need him to show them the way and he should wait inside, where it’s warm and dry and he can feel his nose, two figures bundled in winter coats and hats catch his attention at the end of the block, their faces blurry in the snowy haze.

 _Tall,_ his mind registers, so he puts his middle finger up. Hanamaki Takahiro waves excitedly in response and Matsukawa Issei returns the gesture with two hands. They arrived earlier than the time Hajime had given the team, but he was expecting that. He’s been trying not to think too hard about why. 

“I told you it was a left and then a right,” Hanamaki is grumbling to Matsukawa when they reach Hajime. 

“You understand how easy it is for those two directions to get messed up? Hey, Iwaizumi.”

Hanamaki looks at Matsukawa in disbelief. “Are you _five_? Hi, Iwaizumi.”

“Hey, guys. You’re the first ones here so we gotta wait outside a little longer.”

Matsukawa blinks. “That’s cool, but doesn’t Oikawa–”

“Live right next to me? Yeah.” Hajime turns to the right slightly to redirect his middle finger. “Look, you can see him watching us from his kitchen window.”

“Oh, sick. Morning, Oikawa!” Hanamaki calls. The curtains on Oikawa’s first floor swish shut. “Huh. Rude.” 

“He’ll be out soon. He’s just being a wimp,” Hajime says, but fondly.

Sure enough, Oikawa’s front door swings open with a rickety creak that’s more familiar to Hajime than any of the sounds his house makes in the winter. Hajime keeps his back turned, facing Hanamaki and Matsukawa as they dig around in his yard, but he can hear the slow, careful crunch of snow, can tell when boots are yanked out of pockets of ice and when hands windmill through the air. But he never hears him fall.

“Am I late?”

Standing in his driveway, smile hidden under at least six scarves that somehow don’t clash, Oikawa Tooru can only blink at Hajime before he’s pelted with snowballs.

“Aah, Makki! Mattsun! _Noooo!”_ Oikawa goes down with an exaggerated flail of his arms, clutching his heart as he lies motionless in the snow. 

For someone who was the love of his life, Oikawa could be a little dramatic for Hajime’s tastes. He’s learned to live with it, though.

“I’m the captain now,” Hanamaki cackles, fist raised triumphantly.

“I’m uninviting you,” Hajime says.

“I’m the vice-captain now,” Hanamaki amends.

Oikawa rises slowly from the pile of snow he collapsed in, delicately brushing powder off of his shoulders and stomping the sleet off of his pants. He straightens up and appraises the scene in front of him, Hanamaki and Matsukawa hiding their hands behind their backs in a way that is somehow more obvious than if they had snowballs pointed at Oikawa’s face. Hajime stifles a smile when Oikawa subtly puts distance between them, turning to examine the state of their street. It’s so covered in snow Hajime can’t tell where the road ends and sidewalk begins.

He wonders what else Oikawa is looking at.

“This–” Oikawa gestures vaguely at the general outdoor area, nose wrinkled– “is just...too much.” 

“You’re late for someone who spent ten minutes making faces at us from your kitchen, Shittykawa,” Hajime says, answering his earlier question.

“You all looked cold,” Oikawa sniffs. “I didn’t want to expose myself to the elements longer than necessary.”

“Don’t worry, the elements don’t want you exposing yourself either,” Hanamaki says, hands raised for high-fives from Matsukawa and Hajime.

Oikawa’s mouth opens and closes even though he’s not making any sounds and Hajime is _so glad_ the rest of the team is even worse with directions than Matsukawa, because it’s only Oikawa’s closest friends that see him like this. He finally starts matching words to the motions of his mouth and it’s a quiet “ _I’ll show you!”_ that has Hajime groaning in pity. 

“Please don’t,” Hanamaki and Matsukawa say in unison. It’s too easy.

Oikawa is quiet again because he’s smashed his forehead against Hajime’s back to hide his face, shaking every time Hajime laughs. They eventually calm down, turning to face the road so they’ll know when the rest of the team arrives and falling into the kind of quiet that means someone is going to say something serious or stupid or both.

“So, this is the last–” Hanamaki starts.

“Shut up,” reply the other three immediately. It was both.

Hanamaki nods thoughtfully. “You’re right. My bad, I forgot that I’m supposed to smother my emotions. The bro code is saved.”

“We don’t need to talk about something we all know,” Hajime grumbles. He might start crying if they do.

“We just...let it exist,” Matsukawa says, gesturing widely. “Don’t acknowledge it. Like a really big elephant in a really small room.”

Oikawa doesn’t join in and Hanamaki doesn’t look convinced, which is how Hajime knows this is going to be brought up again, possibly multiple times throughout the night. Thankfully, a clump of people tear around the edge of the sidewalk, careening towards Hajime’s house and he’s not really sure why they’re running, it’s not like they’re late to practice.

“How cute,” Hanamaki says.

“They’re so scared of us,” Matsukawa says. “I love it.”

The rest of Seijou skids to a stop in front of Hajime’s yard, Kyoutani actually sliding across the ice on the sidewalk kinda gracefully and looking furious about it.

Watari folds over, panting with his hands on his knees. “Hey, everyone. Sorry we’re–”

“I _told_ you all it was a left and then a right!” Yahaba interrupts, scolding the entire group but looking only at Kyoutani. 

“I _agreed_ with you, stupidhead,” Kyoutani replies incredulously. “Kunimi was the one who kept saying turn left!”

“Sorry we’re late Iwaizumi-san, I knew we were going the wrong way but I thought Kunimi knew a shortcut so I stayed quiet–” Kindaichi says breathlessly, carrying his rolled-up futon and maybe everyone else’s too.

The snow under Yahaba’s feet looks like it’s about to melt. “Are you _kidding_ me–”

“Oh, I knew we were going the wrong way too,” Kunimi says, and then he walks into the house.

 _It’s the last one,_ Hajime tells himself and it doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

––– 

Hajime’s mom is his hero. Nine teenage boys burst in through her front door, two of them threatening murder, and it only takes her crossing her arms in their peripheral vision to get them to line up silently in the entryway and pull their boots and jackets off.

“Hi, Iwaizumi-san!” Oikawa chirps.

“I’m not playing favorites today, Tooru,” Hajime’s mom replies even though everyone can see her give a small wave. “Before we get started, I have to lay down some ground rules. First, no wrestling matches near the Christmas decorations.” 

Oikawa and Hajime shift guiltily. Jeez, knock over a Christmas tree _one time_ and it gets brought up every December. 

“Second,” she continues. “Everyone has to brush their teeth before they go to bed. And ask yourselves before you do anything – will this get me on the evening news? If the answer is yes, you’re not allowed to do it in my house. Any questions?”

Hanamaki raises his hand with a smirk on his face and almost has it torn off by Hajime and Oikawa.

“Good,” Hajime’s mom says. “I’m going to start dinner. Hajime can show you around.”

“Uh, the upstairs is where I sleep. The downstairs is where the TV and food is,” Hajime says. “There’s also a bathroom somewhere.”

“You disappoint me, son,” his mom calls from the kitchen.

“I thought he got everything important,” Watari mutters, looking confused.

Hajime leads the team into his living room and watches hawkishly as they spread out on his mom’s furniture. He can sense Oikawa glaring over his shoulder at anyone who starts to put his feet up, and he’s grateful. It's as much his house as it is Hajime’s at this point.

Hajime parses through the stack of DVD cases under his TV. “I have four controllers and a couple different games–”

“Smash,” Hanamaki says instantly, and just like that they’re facing Shiratorizawa on the court, breaths uneven and every member of the team united in their single-minded quest for victory. 

Hajime is content to watch for now, so he settles in an armchair and lets the sounds of Kyoutani destroying everyone as Jigglypuff wash over him. Oikawa drapes himself over the armrest but ends up sliding further down by the minute, gravity pulling him closer to Hajime or maybe the other way around and from a certain angle it looks like Hajime has his arm around him. 

“Iwa-chan.”

Hajime pretends not to hear Oikawa whispering in his ear.

“Iwa-chan, we have to talk.”

Nope. No they do not.

“Iwa- _chan_.” Now he’s poking Hajime’s face and eighteen years of practice still isn’t enough for Hajime to ignore Oikawa for long.

“What, Shittykawa?” he hisses. “What do we need to talk about so bad?”

Oikawa frowns. “You’ve been avoiding it.”

Hajime’s been avoiding a lot of things. It's how he got through high school while secretly in love with his best friend.

Oikawa talks over the scowl on Hajime’s face. “You know that everything we do from now on will be the last time we do it.”

Hajime jolts upward at that, nearly knocking Oikawa from his...lap? When did that happen. “We're not _dying,_ Oikawa. We're just graduating.”

“If this is our last year together, are we doing everything we should be? That we _could_ be?”

Hajime’s lungs fail him and his breath comes out in a choking wheeze, Oikawa’s eyes catching every little reaction that Hajime’s not even aware of. Dammit, he’s already made his peace with Oikawa being his number one regret from high school. It makes sense, since he's already number one in everything else that matters. But Oikawa's suggesting a monumental change in everything they've built up and skirted around for years. Typical. Always thinking of remaking himself, and Hajime gets pulled in every time.

Well, he's comfortable where they are today, so he's gonna pull back. “I don't want to do this right now, Oikawa.”

“When are we going to talk, then? When are you going to actually listen to me?”

Before he can even think of a way to respond, his mom pokes her head into the room. “Kids, can I ask a favor?”

Hanamaki pauses the game, disgruntled at his seventh death by Jigglypuff. “What's up, my favorite Iwaizumi?”

Hajime’s mom stares at him long enough for the smile on his face to tilt a little before addressing the room. “I'm leaving for a flight tonight but the driveway’s covered in snow.”

“Say no more, Iwaizumi-san!” Oikawa rises, pulling away from Hajime. His tone is so vastly different that Hajime wonders whether the previous conversation was entirely in his head. “Let's grab some shovels, team.”

“Thank you, Oikawa,” Hajime’s mom says. “Dinner will be ready by the time you're done.”

Hajime is the last to leave the room, his sense of balance yanked away, the world not looking quite right anymore.

“You good, kiddo?” his mom asks as he pulls on his boots with numb fingers.

He nods brusquely. “Just gotta talk to Oikawa about something.”

“Okay.” She smiles in relief. “You two always figure it out.”

Hajime lets himself grin, pausing before he closes the front door. “Yeah, we got this.”

Oikawa is standing at the head of the group like it's a real team huddle, shovels already piled at his feet, by the time Hajime makes his way through the snow. “Okay, everyone! We're going to clear the driveway from here to the end of the sidewalk. There’s nine of us so we should be done in no time at all.” He would be more motivating if he was actually looking at the team as he spoke and not taking pictures of the sun setting behind the clouds.

“So we’re just going to shovel snow?” Watari says wistfully, gazing longingly at the incredibly soft-looking yard. 

“That’s it. Nothing else,” Yahaba says, eyes refusing to drift from the driveway.

“Only shoveling,” Hanamaki echoes, fingers twitching.

––– 

“EAT SHIT, KYOUTANI!” Yahaba shrieks, flinging the biggest snowball Hajime has ever seen at Kyoutani’s face. 

Kyoutani kicks up snow with how fast he starts running, getting some into Hajime’s boots somehow (was that a growl he heard? He didn’t know human beings could make sounds like that). “You're dead, cream puff!”

Yahaba cackles wildly, brandishing a tree branch. The rest of the team is in similar states of chaos, a full-on snowball war marring Hajime’s front yard.

“Should we be worried?” he mumbles. He tapped out after Hanamaki figured out how to get snow down the back of people's pants and moved to the sidelines with Oikawa.

“About Kyoutani? Absolutely,” Oikawa replies. Hajime grunts, not concerned enough to move and risk getting more snow in his boots, and they fall into a comfortable silence.

Hajime throws his snowball at Oikawa at the same time he’s hit by the clump of ice Oikawa was hiding behind his back.

“That was a dirty move!” Oikawa gasps, hiding his laughter behind his hands.

“I'll show you dirty,” Hajime growls and Oikawa violently freezes, long enough for Hajime to tackle him into the snow, cradling the back of his head just in case there's something hard hidden beneath the ice.

Oikawa’s laughter is too strong to be hidden now, bursting out of his chest as Hajime smears slush on his cheeks. “Stop, stop Iwa-chan– _ahahaha,_ it's _cold_ , _stopI’mgonnapee–_ ”

Oikawa’s always been good at showing Hajime the parts of himself he didn't know were there, shaping him into something new with his bare hands. But fear had interrupted the process, warping his reactions so when Oikawa tried to smooth things over he got cut on Hajime’s sharp angles.

Hajime hovers over him, brushing a thumb over his forehead to wipe away the snowflakes but leaving water droplets behind instead. “Okay.”

“Hmm?”

“You're right. I'm sorry for not hearing you out. The rest of this year, we'll do the things we've been putting off, whatever they turn out to be. It'll be my New Year's resolution.”

Hajime’s close enough to see Oikawa’s eyes crinkle up as he smiles and he seriously considers never leaving this spot. “We'll make a bucket list.”

“What's going on it?”

“I can think of a few things,” Oikawa breathes.

The sun starts to set, the last defense against the cold disappearing behind the tree Hajime would use to cross into Oikawa's room when they were little. Neither of them notice, warm enough huddled together.

It takes Kindaichi’s desperation to hit everyone on Seijou at least once with a snowball to get Hajime and Oikawa inside.

––– 

Driveway shoveled and dinner eaten, Hajime’s teammates spread their futons out around his house, most settling in the living room to watch a movie. Hajime has a separate flight to catch in the afternoon to meet up with his mom, but he still offers his bed to whoever wants it. For some reason they glance at Oikawa before telling him to get a good night's rest.

Oikawa is the last out of the bathroom but Hajime has an inkling where he's gonna set up for the night. A knock on his door confirms his suspicions, and then Oikawa is hovering in his doorway draped in his alien blanket. 

“Looks like there’s not enough room for me, Iwa-chan,” he says, standing in the open space that is Hajime’s floor.

Hajime’s mind flashes to the extra futon that Oikawa has used before during study sessions that ran late, currently shoved in the back of his closet. “Yeah, and I don’t remember where I put your futon.”

“Hmm, that’s too bad. Losing a whole futon.”

“Yup. Too bad.”

“I _guess_ I can sleep on your bed. If Iwa-chan doesn’t hog the covers with his stupid arms.”

“I don’t know what that means but yeah, there’s enough room. If you kick me I’ll toss you out the window.”

Oikawa throws his blanket onto his side of Hajime’s bed. “Really, there’s nowhere else for me to sleep. That’s why I’m doing this.”

“There are garbage cans in the kitchen. Oh, before you lie down, can you get–”

“Got it.” Oikawa rolls down Hajime’s blinds with a snap, obscuring their view of Oikawa’s house twenty feet away. He jumps onto Hajime’s bed, nearly tipping him off of it (nearly getting himself kicked to the floor), before pulling his blanket over his shoulders and wiggling down until he’s at Hajime’s eye level. There’s not enough room for both of them, but as he tangles their legs Hajime thinks they've always been decent enough at fitting together.

He rests his cheek on his pillow and watches the slight, fluttering movements of Oikawa’s eyes as he looks back at him. “Shittykawa, we don’t need to go through this routine every time you stay over. Just admit that you can’t sleep well without me.” He says it quietly, almost jokingly, because he'll always give Oikawa a way out if he’s not ready to speak. “You can tell me anything, you know? Keep repeating it until I listen.” 

The words are too close to everything they’ve been dancing around for months. But Oikawa made the first move and it's a fundamental law of physics or something that everything between them must be balanced. 

Hajime knows that most best friends aren't this close, that Hanamaki and Matsukawa aren't downstairs in the same futon, but there's no word for what he and Oikawa are. It's fate that brought them together and choice that keeps them that way. The closest description in Hajime’s vocabulary is partners, but only because Oikawa taught him what its true definition is.

Oikawa stares at him for a moment more, stares _into_ him it feels like, before closing his eyes and wiggling closer. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Hajime runs a hand through his hair, pulling him slightly closer. “Don't drool on me.”

“Only if you don't snore, Iwa-chan.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. You gotta promise too, now.”

“Sure, Tooru. I promise.”

––– 

At some point in the night his mom leaves to catch her flight, but comes into Hajime’s room to say goodbye first.

“See you tomorrow, Hajime,” she whispers, kissing his cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he mumbles.

“Bye, Oikawa,” she says.

“Bye, mom,” Oikawa sighs sleepily, and oh, Hajime is going to make him _cry_ in the morning. 

––– 

Waking up frozen even though he was buried under two blankets and one Oikawa was a really shitty way for Hajime to find out that the power had gone out overnight. He’s at that stage where if he turned off his alarm for school he would risk missing class completely, but since it’s the weekend and Oikawa’s head is resting against his collarbone he decides to let it happen. 

He doesn’t need an alarm when his eyes snap open minutes or hours later, after he realizes that his nightmare where a high school volleyball team is unsupervised in his house with no electricity is just real life.

“Oikawa,” Hajime slurs. “Hey, Oik– Tooru, wake up, they...they’re gonna burn the house down...”

Oikawa jackknifes up with the appropriate amount of concern. Hajime is proud. _“Tooru?”_

Hajime is a little less proud. “Who?”

“You just said–” Oikawa makes a frustrated noise, rubbing at his eyes. “Who’s burning the house down?”

Hajime wakes up again, catching the end of his question. “Huh? Someone– someone is...burning my house down?”

“Oh my god,” Oikawa says, yanking the covers back and hurrying to the bathroom. “Oh my _god_ how do you make it to school on time?” 

“There’s school today?”

By the time Hajime wakes up for real and Oikawa finishes washing his face, the rest of the team has gathered in the living room.

“Iwaizumi,” Hanamaki says, horror clear on his face. “The _microwave_ won't work. We're starving.”

“Power's out." Hajime shrugs. “We'll be fine, we can go to a restaurant for breakfast.”

“Oh, that's the other thing,” Matsukawa says. “We're snowed in.”

Hajime trips over the last stair and Oikawa yanks him up by his shirt.

“We're _what?”_ he shrieks, still holding tight to Hajime.

“We tried the door,” Kyoutani says gruffly. “Doesn’t work.”

Hajime marches over to check for himself – and immediately slams the door shut on the white wall of snow half his height. 

The group is silent as he rests his forehead against the cold wood of the door. Oikawa’s grip tightens on his shirt.

“...We could climb out a window?” Kindaichi tries.

“Watari is the smallest,” Yahaba says immediately.

Watari closes his eyes with all the pain of a man who’s heard the same joke for the past two years of his life. “What does _that_ have to do with _anything_?”

“It was time for a reminder.”

“Stop. Stop this. Nobody is climbing out any windows,” Hajime says.

“Yet,” Oikawa adds on.

“We can’t rule anything out,” Matsukawa says. “Between having to eat my friends to avoid starvation and shoving Watari out a second-story window to get help, I’m voting for the second option. Sorry, kid.”

“If any of you try to eat me, I will fuck you up,” Kyoutani says.

Kindaichi blinks. “You guys can eat me if you really have to–”

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” Hajime says, emphatically. “We all have cellphones. All of us. Kunimi is literally using his right now.” 

Kunimi flips him off and keeps scrolling.

“Yeah, fuck you too, kiddo.” Hajime massages his temples. “Just. Can someone text their parents. Please.”

Oikawa pulls his phone out, frowning at the battery life while tapping out a message. “It didn’t fully charge overnight and my parents are going to have to dig themselves out first. But they’ll get here eventually.”

“We’ll just have to wait,” Matsukawa says. “No power means no Smash, though.”

Watari gasps in horror. “What are we supposed to _do_?”

There’s a moment of silence, the calm before the shitstorm probably, and then Hajime can pinpoint the exact moment his teammates start _thinking_.

“So we have this whole house to ourselves. No adult supervision,” Yahaba says, but it doesn’t sound like as much of a question as Hajime would prefer.

“Absolutely not,” he says immediately. “All of you, shut your brains down right now. No ideas for the next 24 hours. Shouldn’t be too hard.” He doesn’t want to bring Oikawa into his attic to see what they can take apart and put back together like they did when they were kids. He _doesn’t_.

“Does your mom have alcohol? I’m not gonna drink any, I just want to know. I’m not gonna drink it,” Hanamaki asks as if he didn’t hear anything that came out of Hajime’s mouth.

“There’s enough food in the fridge, right? I don’t want to starve or eat Kindaichi.”

“Can we take out your sleds but use them on the stairs instead?”

“Get this – snowball fight, but inside and with water instead of snow.”

Hajime wonders how his friends have survived this long. It must be his guidance that’s kept them alive.

“Can we use your fireplace to bake cookies? So the dough doesn’t go bad?” Watari asks excitedly, eyes actually sparkling, and Hajime is going to have a _really_ tough time crushing his dreams. He looks to Oikawa for help, shaping his brows in the way he knows Oikawa will translate to ‘ _back me up here’_ but only receives a ‘ _not this time’_ shake of his head in return. Hajime’s upper lip curls into a snarl (‘ _there isn’t gonna be a next time for you’_ ) but Oikawa just pouts in that way he knows will get Hajime to do anything he wants.

“They’re doing that thing again,” Matsukawa mutters. “Hey, dumbasses, we can’t actually hear what you’re saying to each other.”

“Iwa-chan – the _attic,_ ” Oikawa whispers, grabbing onto Hajime’s sleeve. _Dammit._

He takes a deep breath. “If anyone breaks anything, I will personally _dig us out_ just so I can kick their ass into the snow and lock the goddamn door,” he says, but the second-years and first-years are already whooping their way into the kitchen and Hanamaki and Matsukawa are tearing up his stairs like they’re racing each other. Hajime decides not to think about it too hard.

He turns to ask if Oikawa is ready to head up to the attic, but can only let out a startled laugh at the way Oikawa is looking at him expectantly, eyes bright. 

“What?” he asks, half a smile forming.

“Nothing,” Hajime says, ruffling his hair. Oikawa stiffens and Hajime withdraws his hand. “Hey, I didn’t mess up your hair, Shittykawa. It already looked terrible.”

“No, it’s not–” Oikawa interrupts himself with a frustrated noise. “I want– we need– dammit, you’re just– attic!”

Hajime snorts. “‘I’m just attic?’ What does that mean?”

Oikawa yanks on his arm, tugging him up the stairs. “Nothing! Let’s go to the attic already.”

 _We’re basically holding hands_ , Hajime thinks and then hates himself.

He pulls the ladder down for Oikawa and follows him up, shivering immediately as a breeze worms through the old wood slats of his roof. Oikawa makes a beeline for the box with the VCR and VHS tapes, muscle memory in this place as deep as setting a ball on the court. 

For a couple of years before and between volleyball, Hajime and Oikawa would spend time messing around with tech a few years older than them – junk that's old enough now that calling it tech is a misnomer. Oikawa would take apart a cellphone bigger than a home phone to use the parts in the alien scanner he invented (really just a glorified flashlight), and Hajime would tinker with their walkie-talkies so when Oikawa got his nerdy, risk-taking ass abducted he could still reach him in space.

Unlike Oikawa’s alien scanner, Hajime’s modifications mostly worked. The longest range he ever managed was standing at opposite ends of the block. (But even then Oikawa was shouting into his walkie so maybe he had been listening to the echoes of his voice. Or maybe he had already learned to predict what Oikawa was going to say and they never needed anything but that to communicate.) He wonders if that's the memory Oikawa sees when he looks at their street.

Hajime can tell now that Oikawa has something big to say. Until he's ready, he joins him in tearing open the box and pulling out the VCR he had once stripped for parts to make an unbreakable line of communication with Oikawa.

“Still looks good,” Hajime whistles. “Even after all we put it through.”

“Iwa-chan, look,” Oikawa says, rummaging through another box already. He pulls out their old walkie-talkies, and Hajime’s running out of ways to describe his smile.

“They'll need batteries,” he warns, taking his gently into his hands.

“Then that's the first thing on my bucket list,” Oikawa says. “Putting batteries in our walkie-talkies.”

“We have cellphones,” Hajime laughs.

“You know it's not the same.” Oikawa rolls his eyes at him and Hajime ruffles his hair to knock them back into place. 

“I’ll check if I have the right batteries downstairs,” Hajime gives in easily, the feel of the walkie in his hand reminding him of every secret he shared with Oikawa over their frequency. Oikawa looks surprised, moving back to the VHS box to hide his blush. He pulls a couple out, examining the labels Hajime’s mom put on them.

“‘Spring 2005,’” Oikawa reads. “Which one was this?”

Hajime thinks for a moment, ducking closer to trace his mom’s handwriting. “Was that the year we went fishing at the river and you pushed me in?”

“You fell,” Oikawa replies immediately, stuffing the tape into the box. “What about this one?”

 _Spring 2003._ “That might be the time you got mad at your sister and tried to move in with me without asking my mom. She filmed you sneaking into my window.”

“Where are your embarrassing videos?” Oikawa grumbles.

“If you didn't beg for a camera to be pointed at you at all times you would have less embarrassing videos.”

“The camera is drawn to me. I do not ask for attention. I am _given_ it– Iwa-chan, your face is going to get stuck like that.”

Hajime pulls his tongue back into his mouth and irons out his eyebrows. “I want to watch some of these old tapes,” he says hungrily. “First thing on my bucket list: fixing the VCR so we can watch our old videos. Find out once and for all if I was pushed.”

Oikawa is giving him a strange look, eyebrows all wrinkled up but not in the angry way. “You said ‘we’ that time.”

“Of course,” Hajime says, because _of course_ he wants to do this with Oikawa, _of course_ he'll do this for Oikawa, _of course_ he said ‘we,’ that's how it’s always been, how it always is, and how it always will be. He needs to tell him, needs to ask him what he sees when he looks down their road because for him it’s his past, present, future and Oikawa’s always there when Hajime’s searching. 

“Hajime. Is that really the first thing on your bucket list?” Oikawa says, and he's gotten much closer, or maybe Hajime did, or maybe it was both.

Hajime swallows and tries to take in a breath but everything in the room is being pulled towards Oikawa, including the air, including him _._

It starts out slow, with Oikawa pressing his lips to Hajime’s and squeezing his eyes shut. He thinks Oikawa is holding his breath. Their noses bump once on accident and then Hajime pulls back and does it again on purpose so he can watch Oikawa laugh up close.

It starts out slow, but it doesn’t stay that way.

Hajime pushes Oikawa against the nearest wall with a grunt, knocking over a box filled with something, he doesn’t know, it didn’t sound breakable anyways, hands grasping and tugging at Oikawa’s shirt. Oikawa sounds like he can’t take a full breath of air and Hajime’s no better, barely able to remember the last time he inhaled. Oikawa’s hands tremble in his hair, against his back, until he runs them up Hajime’s chest and makes him shudder too.

“Haj- Hajime,” Oikawa mumbles against his lips.

“Shit,” Hajime swears, and his hands drop to the back of Oikawa’s thighs–

“You look like two fish on dry land trying to eat each other.” 

A gruff voice interrupts whatever plans Hajime had and he finds himself on the other side of the room without remembering moving. He can’t control his breathing – out of fear or something else, he’s not sure. Oikawa is rooted in place against the other wall, one hand clasped over his mouth and one holding his stomach, staring in horror at–

“Kyoutani,” Hajime growls. “Why are you up here.”

Kyoutani shrugs. “If you could see your kitchen right now, you’d stay up here too.”

Hajime collapses against the wall, his head falling into his hands. “I’m going to murder Yahaba.”

“Think it was Kunimi who did the most damage, but I’m not gonna stop you,” Kyoutani grunts. He’s sitting on top of a box Hajime’s mom labelled “fragile” and eating raw cookie dough from a mixing bowl with a spoon. Hajime is starting to doubt that the past half hour has been real.

“How long have you been here?” Oikawa asks hesitantly.

Kyoutani just takes another bite of dough and stares at him with hollow eyes.

––– 

The rest of the morning is a blur – Kyoutani reaches the living room first so Hajime and Oikawa are pelted with mistletoe by Hanamaki and Matsukawa when they get downstairs, and the kitchen doesn’t look _destroyed_ , but it definitely doesn’t look the same. Hajime doesn’t have the energy necessary to get a reaction from Kunimi so he decides to leave his disobedience for the next captain to deal with. Honestly, it’s what Yahaba deserves.

It turns out Hanamaki and Matsukawa had gone upstairs to find Hajime’s baby pictures which means they also found Oikawa’s. Hajime didn’t mind because he tucked his favorites into his wallet for the trip (him and Oikawa after their first junior high win, matching smiles from ear to ear; Oikawa right before he realized Hajime put a bug on top of his head; the two of them still in diapers sitting in front of Hajime’s TV, a Godzilla movie in the VCR).

There’s a bit of a scare when the front door starts rattling, so Oikawa’s parents walk in on a bunch of high schoolers that smell like burnt cookies, waving umbrellas around to defend themselves and scattering marbles down the stairs. Hajime knew they shouldn’t have watched _Home Alone_ so late at night. But they offer to give Hajime a ride to the airport so he doesn’t have to sprint to the train station, and that means extra time with Oikawa, another trip down their street together, so he thinks the mess is a fair trade.

The team cleans up as best they can, but Hajime has a more important matter to get sorted before he goes.

“So, this is the last time,” Hanamaki tries again.

“Yeah,” Hajime says. “It is. For this team.”

“Who says it has to be the last time for us?” Oikawa grins.

“You guys are going to be _begging_ me to leave you alone by the end of the year,” Matsukawa says, voice thick.

“Practice. Interhigh. Nationals.” Hajime puts his fist in the center of their circle. “And then whatever comes after that. No matter what, we’ll have nothing to regret by the time we graduate.”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa bump their fists with his and look expectantly at Oikawa.

“Come on, Captain. We haven’t even won yet. Don’t cry now,” Hanamaki says even though his eyes are watering too.

“I’m not _crying_ , you’re just standing too close to me,” Oikawa says tearfully, and he smashes his fist into the circle. 

––– 

Hajime figures out what Oikawa’s been trying to say just in time, as usual. Having this discussion in an airport is less than ideal, but between them, communicating has always been a matter of knowing which buttons to press to get on the same wavelength.

“Get going, come on,” Oikawa says, shoving him towards his gate weakly. “You’re going to be late, what are you waiting for?”

“Tooru,” Hajime says, and Oikawa’s head falls against his shoulder, hands tightening in his jacket. Hajime uses one finger to tilt his chin up, that fierce gaze daring him to have a good reason to pull out the first names. “I know you're scared.”

Oikawa doesn’t even blink, but Hajime presses on. “You’re scared of what will change when we're done with volleyball, when we go to college. When we’re not on the same team. You’re scared that we’ll have something to regret by the end of it. But just look – things are always changing between us.” He strokes his thumb across Oikawa’s bottom lip to emphasize, and also because he wants to. “I was scared of all those changes too, you know. I couldn't hear what you were trying to say. But I promise I'm listening now. And I want you to hear this – none of our goodbyes are permanent, Tooru.”

Oikawa sucks in a short breath, and yeah, Hajime would say using his first name was worth it. 

“This isn’t goodbye, it’s see you later?” Oikawa laughs softly. 

“If that’s the cliche you want us to be,” Hajime says, and leans in closer to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be back. Promise.”

“Okay,” he says, inhaling shakily. “And I’ll be here. Promise.”

Hajime leans his forehead against Oikawa’s and frowns, watching the way his eyes widen imperceptibly. “Right here? Standing in this same spot? I don’t think you can attend class from an airport, Tooru-”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa smacks his arm. “I’m trying to be romantic here!”

“That’s a little beyond you,” Hajime says, and then dips his head down for one last kiss. They’re in the middle of the airport but he doesn’t care, this is what airports are fucking _for_ , so he lets go of his suitcases to grab Oikawa’s hips and _tug_ , grinning a little at the surprised sound he makes. Hajime keeps it short, running his tongue along Oikawa’s bottom lip - another promise to keep - before pulling away. 

Oikawa stares at him with wide eyes and Hajime shrugs and turns around. “Well, see you later.”

“Wha- You can’t just _do that_ to people, _Hajime_!” Oikawa hisses, touching his fingers to his lips. Hajime almost trips over his suitcase and starts walking faster. “Hajime! I saw that! When you get back you’re going to regret this!”

Hajime looks back one last time to capture Oikawa’s smile for the road, and sincerely doubts that he could regret any decision that lead him to where he is. 

**Author's Note:**

> **deleted scene:**
> 
>  
> 
> _“Four players at a time, person with the lowest knockouts switches out at the end,” Hajime instructs, settling in an armchair._
> 
> _“I’m Jigglypuff,” Kyoutani grunts, planting himself on the floor._
> 
> _Yahaba drops his controller. “What the fuck.”_
> 
> _Kyoutani holds his gaze. “I’m. Jigglypuff.”_
> 
> _“Bold choice, dude.” Watari whistles._
> 
> _“Would have pegged you as a Wolf man, myself,” Matsukawa says, relaxing along the couch after choosing Wario._
> 
>  _“You’re going to lose, and I’m going to love it,” Yahaba snaps, before aggressively selecting Pit._  
> 
> _“You fucking would,” Kyoutani mutters._
> 
> _“What was that?”_
> 
> _“Nothing, fuck off.”_
> 
> _Hanamaki chooses Peach and the countdown begins. “I think the biggest flaw in this game is there’s not enough Waluigi.”_
> 
> _Kyoutani hits him offscreen immediately, and the match takes off._
> 
> and then oikawa and iwaizumi team up as pikachu and samus but still lose to kyoutani in the biggest power move of the year
> 
> thanks for reading!
> 
> [kyouken.carrd.co](http://kyouken.carrd.co)


End file.
